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As Australia settles into for a traditional Christmas holiday across slow-moving days of beach and blistering heat set to the background of sporting matches and cicada song, this year the nation's summer atmosphere feels, unfortunately, like none before.

It would be a significant oversimplification to describe the national disposition after the antisemitic terrorist attack on Jewish Australians during Bondi Hanukah celebrations as one of simple ennui.

Throughout the country, but especially than in Sydney – the most postcard picturesque of Australian cities – a tone of immediate shock, sorrow and terror is segueing to anger and bitter polarization.

Those who had previously missed the frequently expressed fears of the Jewish community are now highly attuned. Just as, they are attuned to balancing the need for a much more immediate, energetic government and institutional fight against antisemitism with the freedom to peacefully protest against mass atrocities.

If ever there was a moment for a national listening, it is now, when our faith in humanity is so deeply diminished. This is particularly so for those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced the animosity and dread of faith-based persecution on this land or anywhere else.

And yet the algorithms keep spewing at us the trite instant opinions of those with inflammatory, divisive views but little understanding at all of that terrifying vulnerability.

This is a period when I regret not having a greater spiritual belief. I lament, because having faith in people – in mankind’s potential for compassion – has let us down so acutely. Something else, something higher, is needed.

And yet from the horror of Bondi we have witnessed such extreme examples of human goodness. The heroism of individuals. The bravery of those present. Emergency personnel – police officers and paramedics, those who charged into the danger to aid others, some recognised but for the most part anonymous and unsung.

When the barrier cordon still waved in the wind all about Bondi, the necessity of social, faith-based and ethnic solidarity was laudably championed by faith leaders. It was a message of love and tolerance – of bringing together rather than dividing in a time of targeted violence.

In keeping with the meaning of Hanukah (illumination amid darkness), there was so much appropriate evocation of the need for lightness.

Unity, hope and love was the message of belief.

‘Our shared community spaces may not appear quite the same again.’

And yet elements of the political landscape responded so disgustingly quickly with fragmentation, blame and recrimination.

Some politicians moved straight for the pessimism, using tragedy as a cynical opportunity to challenge Australia’s migration rules.

Observe the dangerous rhetoric of disunity from longstanding agitators of societal discord, exploiting the attack before the crime scene was even cold. Then read the statements of leadership aspirants while the probe was still active.

Government has a daunting task to do when it comes to bringing together a nation that is mourning and scared and seeking the light and, not least, answers to so many questions.

Like why, when the national terrorism threat level was judged as probable, did such a large open-air Hanukah event go ahead with such a woefully insufficient protection? Like how could the accused attackers have multiple firearms in the family home when the domestic intelligence organisation has so publicly and repeatedly warned of the danger of antisemitic violence?

How quickly we were treated to that cliched line (or versions of it) that it’s individuals not guns that cause death. Of course, both things are valid. It’s possible to at the same time pursue new ways to stop violent bigotry and keep firearms away from its potential actors.

In this city of profound splendor, of clear azure skies above sea and shore, the water and the beaches – our communal areas – may not look quite the same again to the many who’ve noted that iconic Bondi seems so jarringly out of place with last weekend’s horrific bloodshed.

We yearn right now for understanding and meaning, for family, and perhaps for the consolation of beauty in culture or nature.

This weekend many Australians are cancelling holiday gathering plans. Reflective solitude will feel more in order.

But this is perhaps counterintuitively counterintuitive. For in these days of fear, outrage, melancholy, confusion and loss we require each other more than ever.

The comfort of community – the binding force of the unity in the very word – is what we probably need most.

But tragically, all of the portents are that unity in politics and society will be hard to find this long, draining summer.